Goodbye
by DearBeliever
Summary: Mr and Mrs Bates... And an ending, of sorts.


The distinctive pattern of her husband's approaching footsteps had finally relented. She took in his wavering shadow through the cracked glass of their front door. Stubbornly, she maintained her position next to the fire, despite his clumsy attempts to marry his key with the lock.

"You reek of alcohol," Vera spoke eventually.

"And good evening to you," John replied flatly, then chuckled belatedly at his own words.

His hat wobbled on the leaning coat stand before finally falling to floor and spinning mockingly at his feet. He thought better of bending to retrieve it in his current state.

At finding her still awake in their darkened parlour, he desperately wanted to retreat into the back room, stretch out his weary body and give himself over to blissful unconsciousness. But that domain now belonged to his wife alone.

She finally brought her head up to meet his gaze. He really did look pathetic standing there, Vera mused silently. Caught between fight and flight. Desire and duty. In moments like this she almost felt sorry for him. Or at least as sorry for him as she felt for herself. Although she had grown somewhat accustomed to what she viewed as their miserable existence together, she had not accepted it with an ounce of grace or humility. And now, after years of misery, enough was enough.

Vera subdued the smile that threatened to colour her face as she slowly stood and made her way to sit beside him on the sofa. John turned to face her quizzically when he felt it dip and her weight settle beside him.

"Here, let me help you, you silly man," she spoke in her calm lilt, easing his tie off with assured fingers. His eyes searched hers for a moment, trying to ascertain just what was happening. She had barely made eye contact with him in the last three months and now she was displaying a peculiar form of tenderness. She began to unbutton his shirt and waistcoat too, then leaned in towards him and pressed her hand to his exposed chest. She could feel his heartbeat pound beneath her fingers. Vera went no further, instead waiting patiently for what she knew was inevitable.

In the next instant he had pulled her onto his lap and was urgently hitching up her skirts. She knew that John had not sought comfort in other women over the past year, as she had sought in other men. Vera therefore felt confident of his capitulation in this instance.

"Joh…. Yesssssssss," she hissed seconds later as he brought their bodies together, both of them bitterly acknowledging the pleasure that each of their bodies historically drew from the others'.

He was grunting steadily now, revelling in the desperate arching of Vera's body towards his. His commanding hands grasped her forcefully, moving her in time with his thrusts.

"More," she breathed into his ear, driving him on.

He knew that he would struggle to put any weight at all on his leg tomorrow, but for now he had to give her this. Give himself this. Prove that he was still alive. Still a man. Worthwhile.

John's increasingly hazy mind whirled with conflicting thoughts and, all the while, Vera's cries grew in pitch and volume. He entertained the vague notion that he may have been hurting her, but the nails dragging intermittently across his back and scalp told him otherwise.

She was egging him on now, wrenching back the power that he had momentarily believed himself to hold. Vera brought his head up to meet her grinning face, a sweaty strand of hair falling as she closed her eyes at a deep thrust.

"I've decided Johnny," she whispered, her eyes flickering open once more to reveal their intensity.

He grunted angrily in response, trying to drown out her voice and focus instead upon his own need. Her nail teased slowly up his neck and over his chin once more but he kept his eyes closed, his thrusts growing more erratic.

Vera changed angles and keened momentarily at the sensation. "As pleasant as this rare show of manhood from you is… I don't have any need for you anymore."

John's eyes snapped open, his mind sobering immediately. Fear, relief, shame and confusion now jostled for position.

"The last six months have proved," she breathed unevenly, "that a near crippled war veteran with a drinking problem is not a suitable candidate for any form of desirable position."

John was close to finding his release now, despite her contemptuous words, and it shamed him. Her body and hands were working him well, pushing him to the limit and making it impossible for him to stop. It had been many long months since they had last been together and his mind reeled guiltily at just how badly he needed this.

"Therefore, I have, mmmmmm…." she moaned, "no further need for you, my dearest husband." She hooked her legs around his hips, drawing him closer. The dark absurdity of the situation was clear but as his eyes fell shut he had given up. His body tensed painfully and he slumped forward. The heat emanating from his skin was incredible. He took in huge gulps of air, his chest heaving from his exertions.

Immediately, Vera eased him back and swiftly extricated herself. She found that her limbs were protesting somewhat in response to his rough handling but the look of defeat and shame on his face soon increased her merriment.

"Goodnight, John," she whispered slowly, pausing to press her lips to his puffy, stubbled cheek. "I have an interview for a position tomorrow morning," she smiled. "And when I come back, I expect to find you gone."

She crossed the parlour floor, easing off her dress as she went. Turning momentarily at the door, she addressed him for the final time. "You are welcome to continue on your road to ruin. "


End file.
